What Might Have Been
by InfinityStar
Summary: Goren saved their lives in Brooklyn Fed, so Logan offers to buy him a drink. Goren reveals a bit more than he ever intended. Stress Position postep.


**A/N: This came about from a not-yet-published post-season 10 story I am working on. Since I aspire to write a one-shot for each episode (the Goren/Eames ones anyway), I decided to go ahead and publish this one. This marks the beginning of the friendship between Goren and Logan. Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Goren signed the last form from the stack on his desk and set it aside. Leaning back, he stretched, rubbed his left eye and looked at his partner. "Are you done?"<p>

She tucked a paper into a folder and closed it. "I am now. Ready to call it a day?"

He nodded and wearily got to his feet. Across the squad room, Logan stepped out of Deakins' office with the captain. They shook hands. "Thank you for your help, detective," Deakins was saying. "Take care of yourself."

"Same to you, captain."

Deakins walked with him as far as Goren and Eames' desks. "Good job, you two. Take a day. I'll see you Wednesday."

"Thank you captain," Eames answered for them both.

Deakins continued toward the elevators, but Logan stopped by Goren's desk and looked at him. "Hey, what you did back there in the jail...you, uh, you saved our lives. Me, I'd have gone down fighting. But you...I'm impressed."

Goren waved his hand. "Fighting isn't always the right answer. Forget it."

"At least let me buy you a drink."

After a moment of hesitation, Goren nodded. "Okay, Logan."

"Great. Let's go."

Goren looked at his partner and made a motion with his hand. "Join us, Eames?"

"No, thanks. I'm just going to head home. You boys have fun."

She watched them leave together, and she smiled.

* * *

><p>Logan was not surprised that it took a few drinks for Goren to start to loosen up. The guy was sure wrapped tight, very quiet, very private, not at all what Logan expected. "So, you were in the service?" Logan asked, choosing a safe topic to break the ice.<p>

Goren nodded. "Army CID. That's how I got into law enforcement."

"Yeah? What would you have done if you hadn't become a cop?"

"I don't know," he answered with a shrug. "I never gave it much thought."

Goren wasn't big on conversation, Logan realized with surprise. He was a quiet drunk, not one who cut loose after a few drinks. He wondered if he even knew how to cut loose. He decided to try another topic. "How 'bout that partner of yours?"

That got a rise out of Goren, not a good one. He immediately tensed and became on edge. "What about her?"

Something told Logan to tread carefully. "Eames...she's a legacy cop. I remember hearing 'bout her old man."

"Yeah? What did you hear?"

"Not a lot. Just that he was a good cop. In fact, when I got busted to Staten Island, I think I got a card from him. An attaboy, you know. Good going; don't let the bastards get you down. I appreciated it."

"Her dad's a good man. She looks up to him."

"Isn't there another Eames toeing the thin, blue line?"

Goren nodded. "Kevin. Works out of the 102 in Queens. Her kid brother is a firefighter."

"How is she to work with?"

"Good. I...appreciate her."

"Seems like a hard-ass to me."

Goren began to get defensive. "You don't know her."

Logan raised his hands. "Calm down, man. I didn't mean anything by it. I've never worked with a female partner. I'd guess she's gotta be tough."

"To work with me? Yeah."

"Not just that. To be a cop. It's harder on women. I had a lieutenant in the 2-7, van Buren. She was tough as nails."

"I've met her. She and Eames are a lot alike. They don't take any shit from the rest of us. One of Eames' biggest problems is what she calls the 'buddy boy' network."

"I can see that." He signaled the bartender for another round. "By nature of their gender, female cops are excluded. They have to work twice as hard for half the gain. It's not fair, but it's the way it is."

"You say you've never had a female partner. Think you could you work with one?"

"Me? Yeah, sure, I guess so. A partner's a partner."

Goren looked into his drink and didn't respond. Logan studied him and leaned closer. "You got a thing for her?"

"What? No! She's my partner."

Logan arched his eyebrows. That was the most animated Goren had been all night. "You're protective," he conceded. "I get that. She's tough, but she's little. Fearless, too, I'll bet. Drives you nuts, huh?"

Goren had calmed and he nodded in agreement. Logan took a swig of his beer. The nature of Goren's protest told Logan a lot more than his words. Half a dozen beers later, Goren confirmed his suspicion, though in a drunken, rather roundabout way. He leaned closer to Logan and softly said, "Maybe I do."

Logan, who didn't know Goren well enough to go back more than an hour in their conversation, had no idea what he was talking about. "Do what?"

"Have a thing."

Logan frowned. "What kind of thing?"

"I have no idea, but it scares me."

"Have you seen a doctor?"

Goren's brow furrowed in confusion and he squinted at his drinking buddy. "For what?"

"For your thing."

"What thing?"

"The one you said you have."

"No, it's one you said I have. You know, for my partner."

Realization dawned slowly since Logan's mind had long since moved on to other things. "Your...oh, that. So you _do_ have a thing for her?"

"I think so. But don't tell anyone."

Logan patted Goren's shoulder. "Buddy, your secret is safe with me."

"Promise?"

"Promise," he swore, crossing his heart and signaling for another round.

* * *

><p>Eames rolled over in her bed and fumbled for the phone. "Eames," she muttered into it.<p>

"Were you sleepin'?"

She looked at the clock. "Goren, it's four in the morning. Why aren't _you_ sleeping?"

"I'm not in my bed."

"Well, get there."

"I, uh, I kinda need a ride to get there, you know, where my bed is."

"You mean home?"

"Yeah. Home."

She counted silently to ten. "Why is it, whenever you get wasted like this, you call me?"

"Because you know where I live."

She tried not to laugh, but it was difficult not to be amused when he was like that. And even trashed, his simple logic was irrefutable; she had no argument for him. "Where are you?"

"In a bar."

"Naturally, but do you know how many bars there are in New York?" She caught her mistake immediately and spoke up before he could answer her. "Never mind; don't answer that. Just tell me where you are so I can come and get you."

"Where I am...uh, I don't know exactly."

"Of course you don't. Put the bartender on the phone."

She waited, listening to the phone being fumbled. The next voice she heard was unfamiliar. "Hello?"

"I need an address so I can pick him up."

With a soft chuckle, the bartender gave her the Brooklyn address of the bar. "Thank you," she replied. "I'll be there soon. Just keep an eye on him."

"Don't worry. He's not going anywhere."

She ended the call and got out of bed.

* * *

><p>When she arrived at the bar, she was surprised to find Logan with him. They were attempting to play pool. The bartender smiled at her. "They've been very entertaining, but I'd like to lock up now."<p>

"Thanks for hanging onto them for me."

She approached the two men. Goren spotted her first. "Eames, hi."

"Game's over, boys. It's time to go home."

Logan pointed at the table. "But the eight ball's still there."

Eames grabbed the ball. "Eight ball in the side pocket." She dropped it in place. "Game over. Let's go."

Neither of them argued with her. Getting them to her car was a little like herding guinea pigs, but she finally succeeded. Once they were in the car, Goren in the passenger seat and Logan in the back, she slid behind the wheel and headed for Greenpoint. "Thank you," Goren said.

"You owe me. You interrupted a good dream."

"What was it about?"

"Oh, no, you don't. It's bad enough that you try to read me when you're sober. I'm not going to subject myself to a session of half-assed, drunken dream analysis."

Logan leaned forward. "Was it a dream about him?"

"What? No."

"Was it about Logan?" Goren guessed.

Eames groaned. Goren would have let the matter drop if Logan had kept his mouth shut. Now, he was interested, and that was bad enough when he was sober. She spent the rest of the drive denying the different dream scenarios they proposed to her. She had to admit—several of them would never have occurred to her at all. But it kept them busy and awake. The last thing she was going to do was carry either one of them into the house.

She lucked out finding an open parking space right outside Goren's house. She parked the car and got out, waiting for them to join her on the sidewalk. Logan looked around. "I don't live here."

"No, you don't, but you're spending the night here. I am not a taxi."

"I never thought you were. You're not even yellow."

After another brief herding session, she had them at the front door. "Keys," she said, holding out her hand.

"I didn't drive," Goren protested.

"Oh, for Pete's sake," she muttered, shoving her hand into his left front pocket, where he kept his keys. "Hey," he protested.

"Shut up," she answered as she unlocked the door. "Get inside, both of you."

She pointed to the couch as she removed her coat and tossed it on the closest chair. "There's your bed, Logan."

He laughed and said, "Good night, honey."

Ignoring him, she grabbed Goren's arm and she steered him down the hall to his bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed and started taking off his coat. She watched for a minute before stepping in to help. Tossing the heavy overcoat over a chair, she helped him off with his suit jacket. He fumbled with the buttons on his shirt until she stepped up between his legs and brushed his hands away. She began to unbutton his shirt.

As she slid each button from its hole, he stared at her chest, at the show of cleavage she hadn't meant to expose. She pulled his shirt from his pants, unbuttoned it the rest of the way and pushed it open, sliding it off his shoulders and tossing it aside. Gently, he placed his hands on her hips and she stopped, looking directly at his face for the first time since she'd started to undress him.

His eyes strayed over her face...eyes, nose, mouth...and he leaned in a little closer. When she didn't move away, he shifted even closer, bringing his mouth within inches of hers.

She could smell the beer and cigarettes on his breath, and it sent a tremor of anticipation through her. She never knew what to expect from him, although right now, she would bet the farm that he was going to kiss her. And she would have won that bet, because he did.

He closed the short distance between them, pressing his lips to hers. She instinctively made a move to pull away, but he made a soft noise of protest and tightened his fingers on her hips. She stopped resisting and he slid his hands along the swell of her butt to the small of her back, pulling her against him. She could not suppress a soft groan as she slid her arms over his shoulders and around his neck. Teasing her lips with the tip of his tongue, she relaxed her mouth and he dipped in, deepening the kiss as he sent her mind reeling. She shifted against him, wanting more, and he went on kissing her for what seemed an eternity.

When he finally withdrew from her, she was dizzy and breathless. Shifting, he laid down, bringing her onto the bed with him. He kissed her some more, robbing her of breath and sense. His hands caressed her soft skin as he worked his mouth over hers, and she forgot everything. Nothing in the world existed beyond that bed.

Gradually, his caresses became lighter and his kissing eased until he finally withdrew his mouth from hers. Softly, he nuzzled her neck as he tightened his arms around her, pulling her body up against his. "I love you," he whispered.

Snuggled comfortably against her, he closed his eyes and relaxed. His breathing became slow and steady as he drifted to sleep.

She remained in his arms for awhile as her mind tried to process what had just happened. The one thought that returned over and over was one she could not get past. If he could sweep her off her feet and make her forget all reality so readily in his drunken state, what would he be able to do to her sober? She knew only one answer: nothing. Sober, he would do nothing to her, because the nature of their relationship—their partnership—would prevent him from doing anything with her.

Saddened by that reality, and worried about what would happen if he woke with her in his bed, she did the only responsible thing she could do. Once she was certain he was sleeping deeply, she slipped from his arms and got out of the bed. In the glow of the streetlight that filtered through the curtains, she watched him sleep. Reaching out, she fingered the graying hair at his temple. "I love you, too," she whispered.

She had to get out of there, before she changed her mind. If she wasn't there when he woke, if he even remembered what happened, he would chalk it up to the rambling fantasies of his drunken mind, and their partnership would remain untainted. Leaning down, she kissed him softly. She slipped off his shoes and covered him with a blanket, then she left the room.

Stopping to retrieve a blanket from the hall closet, she returned to the living room, where Logan lay snoring on the sofa. He had wrestled out of his jacket, tossing it to the floor, and kicked off his shoes. Smiling, she covered him before leaving the apartment, filled with regret for what might have been but would never be.


End file.
